


Alaska Diarys

by MidoriFlowersEwe



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, PTSD, wrote this at 15
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 17:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13082214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidoriFlowersEwe/pseuds/MidoriFlowersEwe
Summary: Post-Felina. A series of short snippets from the diary of Jesse's future neighbor in Alaska, who finds himself more and more interested in the man next door.





	1. Chapter 1

June 1st 2012

Another boring day in the town of Brickshaw. Nothing but snow and paper work, as usual- but that's life in a small town in Alaska for you.  
Well. I have got a new neighbor, that's something. We hardly ever get new-comers in this dead beat town, I never thought I'd see the day when someone bought the apartment next to mine. I caught a glimpse of the guy who bought it. Scary looking old dude with scraggly hair and a messy beard. And scars. I counted three- one on the bridge of his nose, one on his cheek, one across his eye.  
I said.  
"Nice to meet you I'm Trevor- I life next door."  
He looked at me terrified.  
"Nice to meet you to- I'm Jesse." He said back before shuffling into his flat. I'm not much of a people's person either. I wonder what the hell happened to this guy anyway?


	2. June 3rd 2012

June 3rd 2012

I'm not one to pry into other people's business, but the man next door is strange. Not in a full on lunacy way, in a subtle sort of way.

First of all, he leaves his room at the crack of dawn every mourning, then doesn't return till late at night. He seems permanently petrified of people. At night, when I'm up late doing extra paper work (again) I always hear him shuffling around his room, sometimes I hear voices too- a sudden shout, the sound of a sob.

It's not like I'm stalking him or anything! But these walls are paper-thin, and it sounds pathetic, but the man next door is probably the most interesting thing going on in my life. What else have I got? A low-paying job as an accountant, a boss who gives me extra work constantly because he know I'll do it, and no friends so speak of. Not that I really want them anyway. Friends are just more hassle.


	3. June 10th 2012

The apartment block were I live is pretty small. It used to be an old mansion but it got converted into 10 flats and a communal library with musty old books and an ancient computer. I was in said library, re-reading Kite Runner, when I noticed an intruder in the apartment complex. At the other end of the communal library sat some kid with spiky brown hair. He was facing half-facing away from me. I assumed it was some college kid using this library because, I don't know? He wanted to be different? Maybe he's studying old books from the seventies that nobody's ever heard of because that's all we have here. I wouldn't of minded, but he had the radio on playing some irritating song. I decided to try kick the kid out myself.

"You know this library's only for people living here." I said all uppity. "Not for college kids or whatever.  
The guy turned around and I got a good look at his face- blue eyes, boyish features, women love that shit.

He looked all confused "Okay?" He said, then I really, really, looked at his face and recognized the scars. It was Jesse. Damn. I felt like a dumb ass. It was awkward for a moment and he laughed, actually laughed. The creepy guy from next door laughed.

"Wait don't tell me you don't recognize me after I had a shave and a haircut." He said. I blushed. He laughed again.

"It makes you look younger." I admitted suddenly I wondered exactly how old was this man. Before he looked like, forty and now he looked late twenty's, maybe younger. I didn't ask and now I'm still wondering.


	4. June 16 2012

It's strange how people can work their way into your life in such a short amount of time. I never have been a people person but with Jesse it's a different matter.

He makes friends fast, I discovered that about him pretty quickly. He has a nervous energy about him that he channels into socialization. He's a talker, give him the chance and he's chat for ages, almost like he's afraid of the silence.

He's a damn nice person too, and it almost makes me feel guilty, seeing how he always has money for every charity box, and time for every person who needs help, even though I know he must be making pittance on his job as a builder. But he loves that job, even if it means working long hours in the cold, he always tells me the details.

"We had to do like, brick laying today- I learned how to like, do it proper. It was awesome." He tells me, like some excited kid. He acts like a child a lot of the time, always wanting to try new things.

But there's another part to him, behind the facade of happiness. I think part of him's still that terrified, broken man I first saw. I see it sometimes in the way he finches away whenever anyone raises their arm, and how he jumps at loud noises. He has panic attacks too, he tries to hide it but I can tell.  
I'm still wondering what exactly happened to him.


	5. June 18 2012

I went to visit my mother today. She still lives in the same house she was born in, the house her father built. She only lives on the other side of town so really I should visit her more often but I always feel like I'm under pressure there. I always sit opposite her on the other end of the big table and the maid served us hot sweet tea.

She asked me if I'd got a promotion yet, I said no, she asked me if I was seeing any girls. She's one of those woman desperate to see me marry and have grandchildren. I said no, and she sighed disappointed, and began giving me the lecture about how I need to settle down, because I am thirty, after all.

I left that night feeling moody as hell. I saw Jessie he asked what was wrong and I ended up telling him all about my mother and how she seemed perpetually disappointed. He gave me this awkward smile and said

"You've got like- nothing to be disappointed about you have that fancy office job and you drive that awesome land-rover." It was lame but it made me feel better, somehow. I asked him about his parents, he was silent for a while before smiling and saying.

"They're great, they're like- supportive and shit."

Jesse is terrible at lying.


	6. June 23rd 2012

I have the worst hangover ever today. I just woke up and did something I'd never thought I'd do- call in sick for work.

It started out like any ordinary night. Jesse had somehow convinced me to go to the bar for- and I quote 'a quiet drink to celebrate living here two weeks' and it turned out to be anything but quiet. Jesse started buying everyone rounds of drinks, and suddenly the sleepy little bar became a party.

Not the type of party you see on TV with fancy cocktails and with sexy girls dancing all over the place, but it was a party all the same. Everyone gathered around the table singing old songs together not caring that we sounding fucking awful, people were telling stories together, laughing with eac hother.

Normaly at the bar everyone just ignores each other and they drink alone. This night was different, it seemed like all the men in Brickshaw were there and we were all in it together. I got drunk properly for the first time in years, and that's how I found myself stumbling home with an equally drunk Jesse by my side, both of us were too buzzed to care about the ice-cold temperatures.

"Who are you?" I asked, my because I've always wondered.

"I'm Jesse P- Bishop- you so drunk you forgot my name, huh?" He laughed.

"No! Be serious who are you? were do you come from I don't- don't even know how old you are. When were you born?" I asked, exasperated. He didn't say anything for what felt like ages.

"Yo! I was born- sometime last year, man. Racing down the motorway in ABQ with nothin' but the clothes I was wearin' and the car itself,"

"What? What does that even mean?" I asked, still don't know what that means now. He laughed again though so I just carried on. At that point we passed an old begger on the street.

"Spare some change?" He asked. I just ignored him like I always ignore hobo's.

Jesse on the other hand just took his own coat of, took his keys and stuff out then passed it to the guy.  
"I don't have any change but you look cold, man."

The old hobo looked oustounded, "Thankyou sir God Bless."

"Yeah you too!" Jesse called out.

"Why'd you do that? You wanna Die of hypothermia" I asked he shrugged.

" 'Cause he needs it more than' me."

"Why're you so fricken- good!?" I asked, exasperated. He didn't reply with a laugh this time, instead he looked down and once again I saw a flash of that broken man he tries so hard to hide.

"I'm not good, Trevor," He said finality in his tone. "I just try to do good things because even if it's too late for like- a redemption I want. I want to at least try and make the world better, you know! I want to try be worth something."

I didn't know what to say to that. With the alcohol weakening his senses he said more to me about his personal stuff than he ever had before.

I don't really remember much after that. I remember the walk home taking way longer than it usually did on account of us both stumbling over. We talked and laughed about crap the entire way back. When we got home Jesse was shivering like crazy because he did the totally smart thing of giving his coat to some hobo. After that we just ended up crashing out in his room.

That's how I ended up here with a killer-hangover. First thing I did was phone work.

Jesse's room is not like I imagined it, it's covered in paintings. I didn't know he was an artist, he didn't tell me, which is weird because he seems like the type of guy to act like a little kid about it, showing me the paintings and being all like 'look what I drew'. I guess these are personal to him then. He had lots of pictures of chains, and guns, and like- a laboratory or something. I wonder what a psychologist would make of this stuff. But I don't need a psychologist to tell me Jesse is kind of crazy.

When I looked down at Jesse- still crashed out on the floor next to me I noticed some marks on the back of his neck. Little circular burn marks like someone had ground a cigarette into his skin. This next parts going to make me sound like a major creep. But I'm not. I was just acting out of curiosity and concern, I swear!

I lifted up the back of his shirt really, really slow and what I saw. It was shocking. He had many more cigarette burns littered all over his back as well as other scars, but two things caught my attention. The first was his upper back, at first it appeared to only be marred with random scars like little scratches, but on closer inspection it spells out a word. 'Back-stabber'.

The second thing was a small swastika, burned into Jesse's back. He'd been branded like an animal, the thought alone made me feel sick. I guess I just sat there staring for a moment feeling.. I don't know- shock, mostly. Confusion too, what had happpened to that boy? And anger at whoever had done this to him.

"Enjoying the view?" Jesse asked suddenly, and I jumped out of my skin.

"You're awake?" I asked, feeling like the biggest fucking creep on the planet, because who just starts looking under their friends shirt when their asleep?

"Yeah- ah! Bitch! got any aspirin? my head hurts like a bitch." He groaned. He was trying to act cool but I could see his hands shaking. I've noticed when he's panicking he has little nervous tics- like saying the word 'bitch' and 'yo' like a zillion times in every sentence.

"How'd you get those scars on your back?" I said, finally asking the question that had been hanging in the air.

"Those- " He paused, and he suddenly looked so afraid I felt guilty for asking. "I- I got into trouble with this Nazi Gang. Got beaten up by those bitches pretty badly. Fuck- It was. It was bad."  
"What did you do?" I persisted, I realised now that I was being kind of a dick asking when he was getting all scared but I wanted to know.

"I.." He hesitated, clearly deciding whether he should tell or not. "One of the members I'd been working with Shot a guy- a kid- and I told the police."

"Oh my God! Did they get him?" My reply.

"No. They... Didn't have enough proof but, he died anyway. Got killed." He said. he pulled the tiniest of smirks which was strange because I never imagined Jesse to be the kind of guy who took satisfaction in anyone's death. Maybe I was reading into it too much. "He- got mauled to death by his own dog- heh."

"Jese christ."

His answer only raised more questions, but before I could get a chance to ask he stood up, "Forget the aspirin I'm getting a shower."

That's when he left, and I just nodded and went to my room. I have so many questions for him now, but I have a feeling I wont be getting an answer, I don't even know an appropriate way to bring it up. 'Hey mind telling me more about the time you got beat up by Nazi's?'. Besides, if he doesn't want to tell me, he wont, and I should probably respect that. Probably.


End file.
